Monday, November 11, 2013

A Quiet Joy

I had been trying for a while. It seems like the kids need so much
love. But it was awkward and I felt out of place. It kept burdening my heart,
so I kept stepping down the path that led to the dorms and cafeteria building.
But when I got there I didn’t know what to do. I would give a little wave and
smile. Some of the kids would gather around, wondering what I was doing. But
that was it. I didn’t know how to make in-roads with relational development.
They couldn’t hear me. I couldn’t use sign language. We were only inches apart,
but I didn’t know how to cross what seemed like such a wide barrier.

But I kept feeling that I should engage, that I should keep
trying. One hundred and twenty kids, ranging from 5 to 20 years in age. Three
house parents. Including staff at the deaf school, 9 total adults to pour into
the hundreds of souls and lives. On the best and most intentional day, every
child wouldn’t get attention, most wouldn’t get touched. Love spread so thin
doesn’t even usually feel like love. If there were “the least of these” in my
world, they were probably there in that school, there in those dorms. What if I
could somehow, with a few hours a week, pour out just a little to let them know
that someone cares, that God cares.

A midwife is here, one of the first volunteers that I have had
within the Ob/Gyn department. She bubbles with excitement at everything. What
are burdens to me, she waltzes into. People who are hard for me to connect with
as their boss, I find her laughing with and enjoying. So, after church I asked
if she wanted to go to the deaf school with me sometime in the afternoon. She was
thrilled to agree.

We turned off of the dirt road to enter their silent world. At
first it was the same old awkward – longing to communicate, wanting to engage.
But then, I deciphered the invitation. Soccer (football) was being played
somewhere. My sign language may not be good, but I could figure that out. I shook
my head, excitedly. A quiet, but thrilled entourage of deaf children
accompanied us down the path to the football field. Crowds more joined us
there. The older boys were engaged in a football match. But swarms of younger
children were hanging around on a small playground dotted with sparse, old
jungle gym equipment.

Guttural noises and rapid hand signs kept coming. But I helplessly shrugged
my shoulders over and over indicating that I didn’t understand. I spelled out
my name in the alphabet, and then spelled out doctor, then imaged a big
pregnant belly followed by a downward sign indicating a baby coming out. Name
and role, that was about the best I could get across. But then – lighbulb!!! I remembered that on my hip
was clipped the i-phone that someone had given me. I grasped it, and began to
type. “How many children? Girls? Boys?” The oldest girl, who had been most
engaging in trying to communicate, typed back “120 - 70 boys, 50 girls”. She
typed her name. On and on and on we went. Then I typed, “I want to learn, tell
me the names of these”, and showed pictures of animals. The children delighted
to teach the signs - zebras, giraffes, lions, cheetahs (though they thought
that was a tiger and so I just went with it), elephants – my hands learned to say
their names. Then it was time to play. I wrapped my skirt between my legs and
twisted up to the pull up bar. Swung up and hung by my legs, no hands. It was
the most impressive that I could still accomplish from childhood without
checking my health and disability insurance policies first. The children
copied. Shelly (the midwife) climbed the dilapidated jungle gym. She, and it,
became so covered with children that she disappeared in and under the piles of
faces. Finally I saw unveiled what I knew was there. The need for and delight in
adult attention and engagement. And somewhere deeper – my soul saw a glimpse in
their eyes, and I felt it in my heart - hope. Hope for relationships. Hope for
the future. Hope that my love might make a difference in these kids.

I brought back out the iphone as the sky became dusky and the
night threatened to set in. “Good to meet everyone! I am excited to come see
everyone again.” I left with a happy heart and new dreams. Too many dreams –
Christmas party, Easter party, next weekend, Bible stories, cooking classes… I
had to reel it back in. One day at a time. Relationships just started. But I’m
super excited to dream of this new place to pour life out. Such great needs
unleashed. Their need for love, my need to love. This could be the start of
something wonderful.